


diamonds and pearls

by anatolesfootfetish



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: F/F, idk - Freeform, ooh is this even an actual ship, this is my first fic so chill, what do i put here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 11:05:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15023204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatolesfootfetish/pseuds/anatolesfootfetish
Summary: The first time Sonya Rostova saw the countess, she didn’t think much of her.





	diamonds and pearls

The first time Sonya Rostova saw the countess, she didn’t think much of her. 

There was a strange humidity in the opera house that night, the kind that comes with the high concentration of bodies in a confined space. The air was thick with the scent of perfume, but no one seemed to notice. They had all grown used to the environment over time. 

The countess approaches them, though, and Sonya finds herself trying not to gag. She turns away, trying to catch some form of fresh air, whatever that might be in a place like this. The countess notices everything, and takes it for disinterest. She decides not to mention it. It’s safer that way.

From that moment, Sonya resolves to dislike Countess Helene Bezukhova.

-

“What is it, Natasha?” Sonya asks. She doesn’t have to look up from her book; she can feel her cousin’s mood change. The temperature of the room seems to rise a few degrees.

“Sonya, could you--” A voice faintly sounds from the hallway, and Natasha nods, her thoughts confirmed, her expression a strange mixture of fear and anticipation. “Could you leave me, please?” Sonya, ever obedient and loyal, nods her head and shuts her book slowly, getting up to leave.

She shuts the door quietly behind her and rushes around the corner, turning back to peer around at the visitor.

The scent reaches Sonya’s nose before she has the chance to see their guest.

It’s her.

Sonya goes to peer through a crack in the door to Natasha’s room, and the first thing she sees is a glance of the countess, already having made herself at home. Her expression is hard to read; she seems cheerful, but that isn’t all. Something else is there, something that sends chills down Sonya’s spine. Something Sonya does not like.

Sonya gasps as the countess’s eyes fall on the crack of the door and meet hers. She steps back, horrified, pressing her back to the wall opposite the door and silently praying the woman won’t mention she’s noticed her. 

One minute passes, then two, and Sonya retreats back to her own room, feeling safe but not wanting to risk being caught again. Something in the countess has left her afraid.

-

Sonya hears Natasha’s door open and heaves a sigh of relief. She opens her own a minute later and steps out, pleased the countess is gone. 

Then, she’s pinned against the wall.

“Such a naughty child,” the countess sings with a click of her tongue, laughing at Sonya’s horrified expression. “Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop, miss?”

Sonya gapes at the woman, unable to move.

“Your name?”

“Sonya.” It comes out hesitantly, and for good reason.

“Hm. Well, Sonya,” the countess says, her lip curling into smirk, “I do like the type to cause trouble. Not to boast, but I think myself to be that type.”

“I’m not--” Sonya begins, but she’s cut off by the countess leaning in dangerously close.

“My, my, you’re not a troublemaker, you’re right! You would be used to this kind of thing if you were.”

Used to being noticed by the most charming women of high society? No.

Sonya is struck by the countess in a different way, all of a sudden. She is a bold and unfearing woman, who won’t let things get in her way.

“How sweet! You know, I think I could grow to like your type. I have to see first.” Helene stops short, tilting her head, for a moment looking entirely innocent. She brushes a loose strand of hair from Sonya’s face and smiles softly before closing the remaining space between them and kissing Sonya quickly, softly.

Helene pulls back and pauses. “Yes, I think I could.”

And in the next moment, she’s gone.

Sonya stands there, frozen, until she’s startled by Natasha’s voice coming from her bedroom. “Sonya, come look at this dress!”

“Not now,” Sonya calls back, although the tone of her voice is foreign. “Not now,” she repeats, looking down the hall in the direction the countess had left.

-

Countess Helene Bezukhova has never been alone, yet here she is.

Everyone is gone now. Her husband despises her more than ever for the whole situation with Natasha Rostova, her brother has left for St. Petersburg, and Dolokhov, for some reason, won’t speak to her.

She knows the girl will hate to see her, but at least Helene knows for sure she’ll listen.

The door to Marya Dmitrievna’s house swings open, then shuts almost immediately. Helene catches it and just barely holds it open.

“Sonya, dear,” she says, her voice soft and sweet, “I’d like a word.”

“And I won’t have one,” Sonya replies bitterly, leaning all her weight against the door but finding no success in closing it.

Helene sighs heavily and gives the door a gentle shove. Sonya stumbles a few steps back at the sudden movement, eyeing the countess with more confusion than hatred. That’s good.

“I can’t live with a guilty conscience. I hope you know that.” Helene’s eyes are sad, and Sonya notices it. The countess is an almost an entirely different woman from the one who had visited not so long ago.

Tentatively, Sonya stretches out a hand, remaining silent. Helene takes it with wide eyes and allows the girl to lead her to an empty room where they won’t be disturbed.

“Tell me, Countess--”

“Helene. Please, call me Helene.”

Sonya looks up at the woman with wide eyes before continuing, pretending as if she hadn’t heard.

“Tell me, Countess, what made you think any of this was moral?”

Helene shakes her head and laughs. The girl is so naive, it’s almost endearing. “I didn’t think it was moral. I didn’t want it to be. That’s not how my mind works, I’m afraid.” Her laughter is bitter and far-off. “I’m a different brand of person from you. One you could never begin to comprehend or commiserate with. Not all of us are humble. Not all of us are you.”  
Sonya eyes the countess curiously, processing her words. “Didn’t you consider the consequences Natasha might have suffered because of your actions?”

Helene looks almost scandalized at the thought. “Not all of us are selfless, either. That’s just another facet of humility.”

The faintest hint of a smile appears on Sonya’s lips. “Facets. Everything has to be diamonds and pearls for you. Even humility.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

She probably means to apologize, Sonya reminds herself, so she looks back at Helene sternly. “Now then, let me hear it. What you’re here to say.”

Helene’s expression at this falls somewhere between a smirk and a genuine smile. “I’m not here to say anything. I’m here to see your face.”

At this, Sonya is taken aback. She struggles to react, eventually resolving to stand and deliver some indifferent response. “Is that all?”

Helene tilts her head and rises, nearing Sonya until she’s incredibly close. “No,” she says softly. “I wanted to tell you you’re very, very pretty.”

But before Sonya has a chance to react, Helene is gone again.


End file.
